Beyond The Butterfly
by SammieeJay
Summary: "Because, Castle. I have no quarries in hurting myself, but I couldn't hurt you." Will castle come through for Beckett?


**_This is for Becca, my little muppet. I love you. _**

**_Warning: contains self harm._**

**_Beyond The Butterfly_**

Suffocating. She feels as if she's still falling. Falling deep into high waters and she was only just floundering on the surface; barely hanging on. The darkness overlooks her, taking a long lasting look of the broken shards of woman slumped in a heap on her bathroom floor. And, she takes the blade again, digging it into her wrist and sliding it down deeper; breaking the soul before it takes anything more from her. No one understands. No one understands why she does it and even still, she blames herself. They don't understand her emotional stability. She enjoys the power that the blade enables her inside. She's in charge, theres no need to hide when it's just her and the blade. The blood is justice, the pain is power. And the blade? It's her way out. Her relief. New scars were formed. Old scars were reopened. This was just a normal evening for her nowadays. Carefully, almost as if handling diamonds, she placed her blade in her bathroom sink and started to wash away the crimson liquid that had started to dry, but wasn't dry enough to crust up and result in being too hard to clean off. Warily, she looked down to see her arm, painted red as usual. She was quickly losing room on her canvas, but she couldn't stop, it felt too good to stop. She refused to let the pain build up again with no way of letting it out. The flow slowed, but it didn't completely stop so placed an old rag to stop the flow of the blood that little bit more.

One wound wouldn't stop bleeding; the one on her forearm which had been reopened countless times. She must have cut too deep this time. The old, blood stained rag was soaked and was starting to drip on the white tiled floor, and onto the edges of her cream rug. She grabbed another rag and held her arm over the sink; applying more pressure than before, not wanting to stain anywhere with her own bodily fluids.

Eventually, it stopped, but not soon enough, by the time she was finished she had three different rags soaked in blood and one with a significant amount of blood on it. It' s not that she cared if she bled out a great deal of blood, it's just all the more evidence to hide from visitors and most importantly, Castle.

Without warning, she heard a knock resounding throughout her apartment and spiralling up the stairs.

"Shit," she mumbled under her breath, binning the rags, and trying to find anything that would cover her arms frantically in a rush of panic, humiliation and worry. It wasn't that she was particularly ashamed of her scars, no. It was more the generalised conclusion that nobody would understand the meaning behind them; not be able to see past the cuts and delve deeper into why they're actually there.

The knocking began to increase, growing louder and more frequent.

"Just a minute," she yelled toward the door, popping her head through the door and down the stairs, catching a glimpse of a figure behind the door but it was blurred. She had managed to find a loose fitting cardigan. It wasn't ideal, but it would do for now. So, she ran down the stairs and over to the door, opening it slowly.

Standing tall on the other side of the door, stood Castle, holding two take away coffee cups.

Stepping aside, she let him in as he passed one of the two coffee's to her - letting her enclose her hands around the base before he fully let go; holding on long enough so he could brush his fingers over hers for the briefest moment.

"Castle, what can I do for you?" She aired the question that was playing on her mind. She wasn't disappointed to see him. She wasn't disappointed at all, in fact she was rather happy about it - but the timing couldn't have been worse.

"You got any biscuits?" He asked after he had swallowed his first sip of coffee. Biscuits? That's why he's here?

"Um, sure." She said, leading the way into her kitchen, allowing him to follow her.; her eyes always fixated on the cabinets. They where a light colored wood, and had rounded edges which she undeniably loved. Self consciously, she pulled her sleeves down and held the edges of then both in a clenched fist to stop them riding up.

"Bourbon? Chocolate digestive? Custard cream?" She said, reading the labels from inside her cupboard before looking back at him, leaving the cupboard open so he can scan the rest of the contents.

"Just a digestive thanks." he nodded, and when she reached up her cardigan sleeve rolled down her arm revealing the scars, the freshly reopened wounds and the newly made ones, too.

He stared at her in disbelief. "Tell me about these," He demanded, gesturing to her wounds. She knew how much she meant to him, hell, everyone did.

Stating into his eyes, she felt her eyes begin to line with tears, and she told him everything. About how she felt, about her mom and how she didn't cope... and he just seemed to sit there and just listen to her; not judging. When she had finished explaining, he looked at her. "Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?" He asked, his voice was neutral and his eyes were rather glassy.

"Because, Castle. I have no quarries in hurting myself, but I couldn't hurt you." She whispered in response, and she watched as he got up and walked out of the room. She was afraid he was going to leave her, and he did. Her tears picked up their pace; quickening and heating up, and before she knew it she was sobbing.

Around five minutes had passed and he walked back in, armed with a permanent marker. Sitting down softly on the cushion next to her, he grabbed her left wrist and started to write on it. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt her, it actually felt nice. Relaxing, almost and when he was done, he handed her wrist back and she looked down. She saw a little coloured in butterfly sketched on the bottom of her wrist.

"That butterfly...that butterfly is me. If you cut it, or if you cut any where else on your body, which is it's home, I will die and you will truly be alone, because right now, I am here for you," He pulls her into a hug, "You will never be alone, not while I'm here."

((this will either be multichapter, or it will have just two chapters. review.))


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